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 O hark, my love! on ev'ry spray,

Each feather’d warbler tunes his lay;

’Tis beauty fires the ravish d throng,

And love inspires the melting song.

Then let my ravish'd notes arise,

For beauty darts from Nanny's eyes;

And love my rising bosom warms,

And fills my soul with sweet alarms.

O come, my love, thy Colin's lay

With rapture calls. Oh! come away;

Come, while the muse this-wreath shall twine

Around that modest brow of thine;

O hither haste, and with thee bring

That beauty, blooming like the spring;

Those graces that divinely shine,

And charm this ravish'd heart of mine.

As I was a-walking

down by yon shady grove,

I heard a couple talking,

it was concerning love,

The young man being a weaver,

the maid she prov d shy;

And he knew full well by her discourse,

she lov’d a tailor boy.

My dear, for to maintain you,

I'd make my shuttle fly;

I’ll wear my fngersfingers [sic] to the bone,

new fashions for to buy.